


Friend

by coffeecup_and_ink



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Childhood Memories, Enemies to Friends, Execution, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Memories, No beta we die like jschlatt, Once again sort of, Sort Of, Twins, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, drunk and old, during december 16, honestly I can't write anything other than angst at this point, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeecup_and_ink/pseuds/coffeecup_and_ink
Summary: Ghostbur made a friend.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Friend (Sheep), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, don't ship real people or I'll bust your kneecaps, gonna make that a tag - Relationship
Comments: 14
Kudos: 217





	Friend

**Author's Note:**

> helloooooooooo back on my bullshit
> 
> I did this in like half an hour enjoy

Sometimes, Ghostbur thinks, people don’t tell him things.

Well. That’s a little bit of a lie, but the things Quackity tells him don’t stick in his brain for long enough for them to _really_ count, and the things the voices tell him— _traitors, kill them, betrayed us, kill them all or they’ll kill us kill them kill them kill us_ —make his brain hurt and his heart ache and his stomach burn with old wounds, so he ignores them for the most part. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t ignore them, wishes he knew why he hurt and what they meant and what he couldn’t remember. But it hurts too much, so he pushes them to the back of his mind and ignores the way his chest aches and rattles with every unnecessary breath and how his memories feel like ashes blowing away in the wind. And he’s happy. He is.

“Hello Phil! I made a friend today!”

Phil looks at him, sadly. He always looks sad, whenever Ghostbur is around. It’s odd, because people are supposed to be happy with Ghostbur now, now that Alivebur is dead and gone and never existed. He’s supposed to be happy now, now that Alivebur’s been murdered and left to rot alone in a room that he isn’t supposed to know about. But Phil still looks at him sadly, and Phil doesn’t tell him things, and Phil thinks that Ghostbur doesn’t see the way he looks at him like he’s Phil’s biggest mistake.

But he’s happy.

He fiddles with the Blue in his pockets. He’s happy.

“That’s good, Ghostbur.”

Phil doesn’t tell him many things at all, actually. Phil isn’t happy with Ghostbur, he always looks at him like he’s done something wrong, and something in his dead, cold heart seizes at the thought. Ghostbur is Ghostbur, he can’t make people sad, he _needs_ to make people happy, otherwise people will hate him and despise him and kill him just like Alivebur. He’s nothing like Alivebur. He isn’t. _He can't be._

(The voices are loud, sometimes. _Kill them all kill them kill them blow it up destroy it do it do it **do it**_ -

But Ghostbur is Ghostbur, and not Alivebur, because everyone hates Alivebur, everyone despises him, so Ghostbur isn’t him. And he’s happy. He’s happy.)

“Would you like to meet him? He’s very nice. He’s blue!”

Phil looks at him sharply, worriedly. “Blue?”

“Yes!” Ghostbur grins. “Well, he was white first, but he looked sad, so I gave him some blue. And now he’s blue!”

“That’s nice, Ghostbur.”

“Yeah!”

Phil looks away from him. Ghostbur’s smile fades. Phil looks sad. “Phil?”

“Yes, Ghostbur?”

He hesitates. Something flitters in his head; a memory, or a memory of a memory, faded like a coffee-stained photograph and glowing like the embers of a fire. He tries to grasp it, hold on to it. He doesn’t want to forget anymore. But it scatters, slips out of his hands and away from him like water, and he forgets again.

“Would you like some Blue, Phil?”

“No thank you, Ghostbur.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur is not sad. He is happy. He is very happy, and he makes other people happy, because he is not Alivebur, and everyone hated Alivebur, and Ghostbur is Ghostbur. “Okay. Goodbye, Phil.”

“Bye, Ghostbur.”

Ghostbur goes to Techno, next. He’s in a cage, and on a stage, and the whole scene looks like something, someone, that Ghostbur can’t remember. “Hello, Technoblade!”

Techno looks tired. He smiles at Ghostbur, and Ghostbur smiles back. “Hello, Ghostbur.”

Techno is nice. Techno understands Ghostbur, he smiles at him and he speaks softly and doesn’t mention Alivebur, and they sit and ignore their voices together. Techno's voices are arguably worse than Ghostbur's, and he's had them for much longer than Ghostbur, but they still sit together, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking, and they pretend everything's normal and neither of them are being beaten down like waves against rocks. Ghostbur is good at pretending.

Sometimes, in the midst of the cacophony of _killthemkillthemkillthemkillthem_ in his head, Ghostbur hears Techno’s voice. His voice is quiet, soft and gentle, but his voice is real, and had been with him since before the other voices were even there, and he knows his voice used to sometimes be in Techno's head as well.

(He remembers asking Phil about it once, when they were children – the memory is foggy, but it’s happy, so he remembers it.

_“Phil? Why can Tech ‘n’ I talk to each other without actually talking?”_

Phil had smiled warmly, then. _“They say twins’ souls are always connected to each other; they understand each other more than anyone else in the world, feel each other’s pain. I don’t know how true it is, but it’s a nice thought.”_

It's not a nice thought. Ghostbur doesn't like the thought of Techno feeling his pain.)

“I made a friend, Technoblade!”

“That’s fantastic, Ghostbur. I’m being executed.”

“Oh.” Execution is not good. Execution means dying, and dying is painful (it hurts. It hurts so much, and it feels like your insides are tearing themselves apart with every breath you take, you can feel your thoughts slipping through your brain like flour through a sieve, like water through hands until there’s nothing left and you desperately want to remember but you can’t), and Ghostbur didn’t want Techno to hurt. “Are you gonna escape?”

Techno smiles, but his eyes go cloudy, far away. “Yeah, Ghostbur. Don’t worry. You can show me your friend another time, yeah?”

“Okay.” Ghostbur leaves. Techno is busy. He’s being executed, but he’ll be fine, because he’s Technoblade. One of the voices—a particularly loud one, one that is always yelling and hurting Ghostbur’s brain—pipes up above the rest.

_He’s going to die._

_They’re going to kill him._

_He’s going to die, kill them, kill them all do it now do it do it blow them all up do it-_

Another voice calls out, gentle and strong. **_Not going to die. Will be fine._**

For once, Ghostbur feels a seed of doubt bury itself in his chest. He has always trusted his brother, but he had just seen him, caged and silent and brooding, like a wild animal.

(The memories come in a rush. _Caged, hurt. Fire. Scared. Nether, home? Hell. Cages, alone, running, pain, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, portal, sickness, cold, hotcoldhotcold fear running **Phil**._

And just like that, it’s gone again. Ghostbur’s head hurts.)

Techno is going to die. He’s going to be murdered, and Ghostbur will make sure his body is not left to rot. He’ll give him a proper burial, with all the gold and jewels and valuables Ghostbur can find, and he’ll make sure his soul can travel to End without a single hitch.

**_Will be fine. Trust me._ **

Are you sure?

**_Yes. Will not leave._ **

Ghostbur clutches the Blue in his pocket. Techno will not die alone. His body will not be left to rot. Techno doesn’t deserve that. Alivebur does, because everyone hated him and he was an awful person, but Techno is good, and Techno is kind, and Techno will not die like Alivebur did. Alivebur deserved death, and Techno wasn't like Alivebur, and Ghostbur wasn't like Alivebur because Ghostbur was _happy_ and the only thing Alivebur ever felt was sad and scared and _oh, so lonely._

Ghostbur's head hurts.

He wants to see Friend.

He walks into the forest. Friend doesn’t like other people, he won’t show himself properly if there are other people around, so Ghostbur goes deep into the trees, lost in the green-tinted light of the sun hitting the leaves. He doesn’t like it when Friend hides himself, but he says that the people in L’Manburg don’t like him, so Ghostbur lets him.

He walks, until he finds a dark spot, hidden from the sun by a large tree trunk. A rock juts up, almost akin to a chair in its smoothness and stability. Ghostbur sits quietly.

“You can come out,” He says. “I’m all alone.”

There was a rustle across from Ghostbur. Friend comes out from behind a small bush, bleating happily and stomping his four hooves. Ghostbur laughs. “I told you I was alone, silly. You don’t need to hide anymore.”

Friend makes a noise; it’s almost like a sigh, and Ghostbur smiles at the sound, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I know, it's difficult to change back, but I know you feel more comfortable in your normal form."

Huffing, Friend leans his head down, closing his eyes. Then, Ghostbur has to shield his eyes from the flash of light that begins in the centre of Friend’s chest and spreads blindingly, surrounding him until he is a ball of warm, white light, and Ghostbur grins. 

When he looks again, Friend is standing on two legs. His head is covered in fine, white fur, and his ears twitch in Ghostbur’s direction slightly. He’s short; certainly shorter than Ghostbur, but what he doesn’t have in size, he makes up for in brightness. His fur is almost gleaming, nearly glowing, white as snow, and his light blue sweater is a single pop of colour in the dark browns and greens of the forest. He is bright, and he smiles at Ghostbur, but not in the way Phil or Techno or Fundy or Tubbo smile at him. Friend doesn't smile at him like he's waiting for Ghostbur to become Alivebur (he's _not_ Alivebur. He's _not_ , and he never will be, and he can't be Alivebur ever again because Alivebur doesn't deserve a second chance). Friend smiles at him like they had known each other for years.

And maybe they had, but Ghostbur and Friend were Ghostbur and Friend, not Alivebur and Schlatt.

“Hi, Friend!” Ghostbur says.

Friend smiles. “Hello, Wilbur.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't like this but I had to get it out of my brain vfbeavsjebvavbsa


End file.
